Photograph
by StrongatHeart
Summary: Marco has to say goodbye to the man he loves.


**Title: Photograph**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Degrassi or the song Photograph, by Nickelback. **

**A/N: Takes place the day Dylan leaves for Switzerland. **

I was just waiting for the tears to come now. My eyes were quite dry at the moment, but I knew it wouldn't last.

I should have been downstairs. I should have been with Dylan, helping him with last minute things. It would be my last opportunity to see him for a while. But I couldn't bring myself to go down there. I sat, cross-legged, on mine and Dylan's bed― all mine now― flipping through the pages of a small book. My photo album.

I flipped past the pictures of Paige's nineteenth birthday bash, past the pictures of various friends in numerous different places, to the section that contained most of the pictures I owned of Dylan and I. That was all I had now, these precious frozen moments, captured on paper. If I closed my eyes, I could almost remember how it felt to be in that place, in that moment, completely unaware then how fleeting it all was.

I came to the old photo of Dylan and I in a photobooth. I smiled sadly. I remembered that day. I was running for school president that year, and I had gone to get my picture taken for my election posters. On the forth and last flash, Dylan and poked his head in the booth and pecked me on the cheek. I had been mad at him then: there was my secret, printed clearly on a photo for the whole world to see. It wasn't just me lying and sneaking around anymore, it wasn't those little things that you could never put your finger on, now there was actual evidence.

_Look at this photograph _

_Every time I do it makes me laugh_

I had thrown out every picture of me and Dylan that I could find when we had broken up a few months later, after Dylan had went to university. I had stripped my locker walls bare, ripped apart every photo I had hidden in my room at the bottom of my desk drawer, desperate to erase all evidence that Dylan had ever been apart of my life.

But I had missed one.

I had been surprised to find it, after all that time of thinking I had gotten rid of everything. It had happened when I was packing, preparing to move in with my boyfriend. I was going through some old books of mine, trying to minimize the amount of junk I was bringing with me. I could remember picking up an old hard cover book, it had always been one of my favorites, and riffling through the pages with my thumb one last time. I couldn't have been more surprised when the tiny photo fluttered out, landing face down on the floor next to me. I must have stuck it there years ago and forgotten about it.

Now, I just smiled at the picture of the younger versions of us. I gingerly ran the tips of my fingers over the thin plastic covering it, keeping it as safe as the memory inside my head.

_Every memory of looking out the back door _

_I have a photo album spread out on my bedroom floor_

_It's hard to say it _

_Time to say it _

_Goodbye, goodbye _

"Marco?"

I looked up. Paige was standing in the doorway, looking timid.

"We're getting ready to leave," she said quietly.

I closed the photo album, sighing. "I'm coming."

Seeming to understand, she gave a sympathetic smile and a nod before disappearing. I took a deep breath. This was it. The moment I had been dreading for weeks.

The car ride to the airport was the shortest ride I have ever taken in my life. We were there almost before we'd even left, or so it seemed. Paige and Dylan chatted idly about casual things such as what the weather would be like in Switzerland, completely nonchalant, as though the sky wasn't currently falling around us. Well, maybe it wasn't falling around them. Just me.

I hardly said a word the entire ride, but I couldn't help staring at Dylan, as though I was trying to memorize exactly what he looked like before it was too late. And maybe I was.

When we got to the airport, Paige and I each grabbed one of Dylan's bags and helped him carry them inside. Paige, of course, took the suitcase on wheels, and left Dylan and I with the heavy duffel bags.

"What do you _have_ in this thing?" I demanded, heaving the first one from the car with difficulty.

Dylan shrugged. "Stuff."

I groaned, shifting the bag from one shoulder to the other. "It's the heaviest bag in the world," I complained. Dylan gave a light chuckle, and I felt sudden relief as the bag was lifted from my shoulder.

"I'll carry this one. You can get the other one. It's lighter," he said, still smiling. I gave him an appreciative smile back.

"Thanks."

When we'd finally caught up to Paige, even the lighter bag was starting to dig into my shoulder. Dylan had left quite a few things behind, but you wouldn't know it carrying these things.

We all sat down inside the airport, none of us really saying much. Dylan's hand found mine, and we sat there side by side for a while, until we heard his flight number being called. What was it with this day that had everything happening as though someone had punched the fast forward button?

"Well, um, bye," said Dylan, glancing from me to Paige. He stood up, and Paige immediately leapt to her feet and wrapped him in a hug.

"Bye, Paige," Dylan said softly. "Hey, when Mom and Dad get back from their trip, tell them I said I love them, and good-bye."

"I will," promised Paige. "They wanted to be here, Dyl, but they couldn't reschedule―"

"I know," said Dylan. "I know, just― tell them. Please?"

Paige squeezed Dylan a little tighter. "Will do."

Dylan nodded.

Paige laughed softly. "You know, despite all the crap I give you, I love you, Dyl. Good luck over there," she said sincerely.

"Yeah. Thanks. I love you, too, sis. And not just because you're such an easy target for jokes."

Paige released him, laughing, and stepped back, smiling up at him. He smiled back, then his eyes hesitantly turned to mine.

And here came the tears.

"I'm just going to― go and get something from the vending machine. Way― way over there," said Paige. I barely heard her. At the moment, Dylan was really the only thing registering in my little world. Dylan and the fact that I was losing him.

Almost as though he read my thoughts, Dylan said quietly, "You're not losing me, Marco. I'll be back."

I nodded, closing my eyes against the sudden onset of salty tears. Dylan knelt down before me, taking my hands in his. I opened my eyes, level with his, and several tears splashed down my cheeks.

"Don't cry. Please don't cry." Dylan reached up to wipe the tears away with his thumb. I relished the feelings of comfort the simple touch provoked. I would give anything not to have to relinquish them.

Suddenly, I threw myself forward into Dylan's arms, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. I felt a warm, wet sensation on my own neck, and realized that Dylan was crying, too.

"Bye, Dyl," I whispered. He gripped me tighter.

"Bye, Marco."

I let go of him and leaned back to look at him through tear-filled eyes, gazing intently into his glistening azure orbs.

"I love you, Dylan. So, so much," I said truthfully. "I don't know how―" I broke off, not wanting to finish my sentence.

"You don't know how what?" Dylan prompted.

I sniffed, feeling miserable and pathetic. "I don't know how I'm going to do this without you."

Dylan sighed heavily. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm just as lost."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Kick hockey butt for me over there, okay?" I managed a small smile.

He gave a shaky laugh. "Will do." Then, a little quieter, he added, "I'll make you proud."

I shook my head. "I already am."

I could see how much the three words meant to Dylan. He smiled, his eyes sparkling with happiness as well as tears, and looked down at our adjoined hands.

"I love you," he said firmly, as though telling me with his tone that I'd better not forget it.

"I love you, too. I always have," I said. "Always will," I added under my breath.

He nodded slowly. Then he leaned forward to kiss my lips gently. If it was at all possible for your heart to break inside a single moment, I had just felt mine shatter. I kissed him back with anguish, never wanting to forget his taste.

We broke apart, our foreheads resting against each other's as we allowed air to fill our lungs. He reached up to caress my cheek. I caught his hand in mine, trapping it against my skin, where I wanted it to remain forever. I brought it to my lips and kissed the rough skin of his hand.

Above us, someone cleared their throat. We looked up to see that Paige had returned, and was gazing at us sadly, tears in her own eyes, as well.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you're going to miss your flight if you don't go now, Dylan," she said softly.

Dylan nodded, slowly getting to his feet, and pulling me to mine.

"Thanks, Paige. So― I guess this is…this is it," said Dylan awkwardly. "I'm going to miss you both. So much."

"We'll miss you, too, Dylan," said Paige, and I nodded, unable to speak.

Dylan turned to me, and I leaned up to kiss him quickly, one last time.

"Bye, Dylan," was all I could manage.

"Bye, Marco," he said softly. His eyes met mine, speaking a million promises without a single word.

I watched the love of my life walk away from me, until he had disappeared completely, knowing perfectly well how difficult these next months would be to get through. Right now, though, I couldn't see past the blinding pain of this moment.

I turned around and began to walk numbly from the airport, with Paige in tow. She caught up to me halfway through the parking lot.

"He'll be back, Marco," she said delicately. "He loves you. He'll come back."

I shrugged, finally reaching the car. Paige went around to the driver's side, and I climbed in the passenger's. The world seemed to have gone back to standard speed now that Dylan had left. I found myself wishing that I could rewind time now, go back to a happier time when my boyfriend was here and everything was perfect.

_I miss it now _

_I can't believe it _

_Too hard to leave it _

_If I could relive those days_

_I know the one thing that would never change_

When we got home, I immediately went up to my room without a word to anybody. I fell on my bed, fully clothed, and closed my eyes. I was suddenly exhausted. I reached over and grabbed the photo album from the other side of the bed, and pulled it to me. I flipped back to the page with the photobooth picture. Tears filling my eyes again, I peeled back the plastic covering and removed the picture.

I took in every detail. Even details that you couldn't see, that were just _there. _Like Dylan's perky, chipper mood he'd been in all that day, or the fear he was overriding in me being with him out in public. More than anything, you couldn't see how much love there was between us. Not from that one innocent gesture, in that one old photo of two teenage boys. That was something you could never capture with a camera.

_Every memory of walking out the front door _

_I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for _

_It's hard to say it _

_Time to say it_

_Goodbye, goodbye_

I set the photo aside, and pulled the album back to me, idly turning page after page. I stopped on the last page, where a small sheet of paper had been folded and tucked inside. I opened it up, smiling in recognition at the note.

Dylan had given it to me the day we'd moved in here together. He'd slipped it inside my pocket when I wasn't paying much attention. Then, the words had been a mark of the new chapter of our lives we had opened together. It was our happiness with the new situation we'd found ourselves in, the joy of each other's constant presence, expressed in a simple quote. Now, the words were a promise. An assurance. A vow. Dylan's vow to me.

_"I will always come home to you." _


End file.
